Where in the World is Rachel Berry?
by teenage-dirtbag
Summary: Rachel's not in school. Either the world's backwards, or there's something else going on...


First period, homeroom.

Mrs. Thomas sat on her desk nervously, preparing for the arrival of Rachel Berry. The girl was bright and pretty but honestly, she was a walking heart attack. Every time she entered a room she did this grand entrance thing which involved her highfaluting vocabulary and her chipper voice. It startled Mrs. Thomas every time she did it. Her doctor already prescribed her a mild heart medication ("to help with the blood pressure, Olivia," the doctor put it kindly) but one glimpse of that girl's plaid skirts would send her hand shaking into her bag, trying to feel for the pills before—well, she didn't want to find out.

Eight o'clock. The last of the students trickled into the room and the bell rang for the last time.

Eight three. She looked around, preparing herself for Rachel, who was usually ten minutes early but—

The door opened loudly. She turned slowly, grasping her chest, waiting for the stream of words—it was one of the football players, walking briskly towards the back row. He shot her an apologetic smile.

"Okay let's start," she said tentatively, standing up (but keeping her hand on the table just in case). "Miss Berry's not here?"

"She's not answering her cell," grumbled a tall, lanky boy on the fourth row.

"Right," she continued, brighter than usual, thinking that today was her lucky day. "Now as you all know, Principal Figgins..."

--

Third period, Gym.

"Adams?"

"Here."

"Ames?"

"Coach!"

"Berry?"

Coach Sanders looked up from her clipboard, surveying the girls in front of her.

"Berry?" she asked again, walking towards the crowd. She noticed her neon pink leg warmers were, indeed, nowhere in sight. She frowned, remembering the last time Rachel Berry cut her class. Two lawyers in suits came into the gym, presenting documents that proved Rachel was in the hospital recovering from sore throat (she was about to ask what for, it was just sore throat, when she saw a thick pile of papers with the words insurance, twenty thousand dollars, and throat in them). They made her sign something, a contract or a permission slip, she wasn't really sure, before leaving and effectively terrorizing her students.

"We'll be expecting Berry's two lawyers today, I assume," she announced, just so her students would have a heads up and avoid gossiping in the middle of a volleyball set.

First set. Someone had hit Brittany's nose and she had to go to the nurse. Kathy Hall, was, as usual, hogging the ball. But no lawyers.

Second set. Nicole James had to sit back down, and the other team had rallied to catch up with Kathy's team. Coach Sanders watched tensely from the bleachers, every creak of the door making her jumpy and unfocused. She toyed with her phone unconsciously. This was nice, quaint, friendly Lima, Ohio; did the Berrys import their lawyers from New York or Chicago?

As the final set started, the doors opened loudly. The girls stopped playing and looked to the entrance, and Coach Sanders stood up, prepared for the thick documents that were about to assail her.

"I'm fine, Coach Sanders."

The girls shrugged and resumed playing. Coach Sanders sighed in relief.

"You can take a seat, Brittany."

The bell rang five minutes later, and Coach Sanders walked away from the gym as quickly as possible, just in case.

--

Lunch.

"What are you doing?" Mercedes asked, watching Kurt throw his sandwich into the trash can.

"I overslept today, so my father had to make my lunch," he said, throwing the rest of the paper bag and keeping the apple. "I love him, but the man should stay in the garage and out of the kitchen."

"What are you going to eat?" Tina asked, poking at her food. "Aren't you like, on an all _whatever_ diet?"

"Atkins and _ugh_, I will not stoop down to the level of this cafeteria." He shuddered at the horribly made macaroni and cheese on today's menu.

"I like it," Artie said, putting a forkful in his mouth.

"Of course you do," Kurt said disapprovingly, and turned his gaze towards the doors. "Rachel and I are on the same diet and I'm sure I can coax her into giving me half of her lean turkey sandwich."

Forty-five minutes later Mercedes was laughing at him and the apple was nothing but a pile of seeds and stem.

Rachel still wasn't there, and Kurt, out of desperation, took a few bites of Tina's mac and cheese.

--

Fifth period, Math.

Ms. George, the unmarried, fortysomething terror of the McKinley high school math department, laughed evilly as the last student, a small girl named Becky, ran to her seat in fear. Santana always thought she and Coach Sylvester would get along really well but Sue would only grace the teacher's lounge to insult Mr. Schue and would otherwise remain in her fully equipped office (she heard Sue was keeping a personal chef behind the trophy cabinet).

"Pop quiz!" she announced with a sinister smirk, passing around sheets of paper. Santana frowned and turned to her right. Where was Rachel?

"You have ten minutes. Begin!" Santana wasn't exactly her biggest fan but being (semi) friends with Rachel had its perks. In a gesture of trust and (semi) friendship, Rachel would leave her exam papers uncovered after answering, opting to count the gold stars on her little gold pouch or the split ends on her hair (she never seemed to find any. Maybe she should ask about hair product too). Santana would be then free to (discreetly, of course) copy the answers off her and manage to get an A on the test without studying.

Santana tapped her pencil, looking around for viable options. Mike Chang sat in front of her and he probably felt as lost as she was. The weird girl with the iguana sat on her left, so she decided to take a chance on her... wait, was she actually drawing iguanas on her test paper? Santana leaned to the side, trying to see Cindy the band geek's paper.

"2x minus—" Santana looked up to see the menacing figure of Ms. George glaring at her.

"Is there a problem, Miss Lopez?" she asked suspiciously.

"Everything's great," she lied, smiling. She threw in a bob of her ponytail for good measure, just in case, well, she wasn't sure. It had always worked for Sue.

Santana got a 19% on the test, which led to Sue screaming at her ear for the entirety of Cheerio practice.

--

Glee practice.

"Alright everyone, I have this great idea for Reigonals." Mr. Schuester said excitedly, taking his place in front of the students.

"Mr. Schuester—"

"Rachel, hear me out first—"

"Rachel's not here," Tina said louder, standing up so he would notice her.

"Are you sure?" Mr. Schuester looked around in disbelief. "Maybe she stepped out, or, warming up in the girls' bathroom?"

"She wasn't here the whole day," Kurt answered weakly. The greasy mac and cheese did weird things to his digestion.

"We're talking about _Rachel Berry_?" Mr. Schuester clarified. The students all nodded.

"Sorry I'm late," the door swung open loudly, and in came Rachel, her hair dishevelled, her cheeks pink, with a wide smile on her face.

"Rachel, I heard you weren't in school the whole day?" Mr. Schuester asked concernedly. "That is so unlike—"

"Are you wearing a football jersey?" Kurt asked, horrified.

"Sorry, today was laundry day and it was all I had left," a voice said behind her. Smirk, dark eyes, mohawk—they were all surprised and expecting to see Puck. He put his hands on her waist and pushed her gently towards the chairs. Matt and Mike were physically restraining Finn who wanted to launch at them, and both Quinn and Santana had this disgusting-but-what-can-you-expect look on their faces.

"I'm sorry to have interrupted. Please continue, Mr. Schuester," she said happily. Puck put his arm around her shoulder and she jabbed him with her elbow playfully before leaning into him.

Kurt looked at them curiously. "What did that boy do," Mercedes whispered.

"I don't know. But if it's good enough to make Rachel skip school, it must be really," he widened his eyes and looked at Mercedes. She nodded in agreement. His smile brightened. "I guess Finn's mine now."


End file.
